The Flow of Gratitude
I love my river – the mountain stream that runs beside the garden. I love the stillness that envelops as one follows the path down to the river. I love that the sound of the water transports one into another world. Its a place of enchantment – where I learnt about magic.
I love its ever-changing nature – from a gentle flow to white water wildness. How torrential rains alter its shape. I love the iciness and singular smell of the fynbos coloured water. I love the unexpected deepness in places. The shallow reflections in others. It’s a place to lie on one’s back and see the patterns of its tall trees silhouetted against the sky.
I love how in the driest of summers it squeezes water into quiet pools. I love that it holds the coolness of the earth in heat of the day. The moss-covered rocks. The boatmen that move endlessly in hypnotic circles. Its a place of contemplation – where I learnt to meditate.
I love that this river is my teacher. That unplanned, untamed is good – that this opens spaces that otherwise would have remained undiscovered. I love that it reminds me to slow down. To stop. To ingest the beauty of nature. To breathe. To be. To flow.
I love that this river fills me with gratitude.
In gratitude and love